on the Logistics of Zombie Survival

It has often occurred to me how frequently people either overestimate their abilities to survive against the undead or simply don't place a great deal of importance on such attributes. The harsh reality is that our modern world has fostered countless catalysts for an undead apocalypse; viral weaponry, nuclear fallout, bio-terrorism, martian space dust, genetic experiments, inexplicable plot-devices, and satanic antediluvian texts bound in human skin to name but a few. Because of these reasons I make it a habit to approach every situation as if a flesh-rotting corpse could spring from the shadows and chew out my jugular at any moment. If I am in an unfamiliar building I immediately begin casing the structure for the nearest exits, roof access, potential weapons, choke points, medical supplies, food stores, and so forth. When in the open I am assessing crowd density, terrain, available resources, and likeliest place of sanctuary. When I lived in Pennsylvania I had my survival plan down to a science, such that I could be comfortably holed up with enough provisions for weeks only minutes after spotting a pale, stumbling zombie. Now that I live in Korea everything I took for granted about zombie survival has been thrown out the window and I am forced to formulate a new strategy. I'd like to share with my readers what I have learned regarding the logistics of surviving an undead apocalypse in the Land of the Morning Calm but before elaborating perhaps a detailed account of my prior tactics are in order.

Firstly, this narrative shall assume only the rules about zombies as laid out in films like those by George A. Romero (Except Land of the Dead which sucked...well maybe not Dennis Hopper's part). For instance, zombification occurs only when one is bitten by a zombie, not simply by dying. Also, to kill a zombie one must shoot it in the head or somehow destroy the brain. Lastly, we shall not discuss fast zombies for two reasons. One, surviving hordes of fast zombies would depend more on luck than any degree of skill and two, there is no such thing as fast zombies.

The best house equipped to survive an undead onslaught that I have ever lived in is without question my college apartment in West Chester, Pennsylvania, a quaint town of medium population situated amidst rolling farmlands. At the present my good friends Mike and Gabe still live in the solid brick house perched above Penn's Table restaurant on the corner of Gay and Church. The building had only one entrance from the street, a steep staircase that was accessed from the restaurant's back door. The door itself had glass windows and wasn't altogether sturdy, but at the onset of a zombie outbreak one only had to hurl the refrigerator, washer, dryer, and any other heavy appliance that would cease to work after the inevitable power failure down the steps. The weight of such contrivances against the street-level door would surely be enough to hold back even the most violent horde and if that wasn't enough, the door at the top of the stairs was much stronger and bolted from the inside.

Once secured, any survivors within the apartment must act quickly to prepare for what could be weeks of seclusion. The most obvious thing to procure in such a situation is a weapon. Fortunately, there are those in my circle who do not hesitate to exercise their second amendment rights, I myself preferring a large caliber Springfield automatic with a high-cap magazine. But a firearm will only get you so far. Remember, you will potentially be dealing with thousands of zombies and guns are limited by ammunition, maintenance, and repairs. This is why it's important to search the domicile for anything that can sever or destroy a human head. Some bludgeoning weapons I know were available when I lived in that apartment included a baseball bat, Mag-light flashlight, shower curtain rod, crowbar (probably the most useful bludgeoning weapon as it is equally invaluable when scavenging supplies), and oddly enough a medieval flail that I found in a thrift shop. The latter, despite being a replica, was sturdy enough for continuous combat and was more than effective in decimating a human cranium.

Food and water are also top priority items. All perishable food should be eaten first and things that can be preserved should be carefully rationed. All containers such as milk jugs, laundry detergent bottles, sinks, and tubs should be emptied, cleaned, and filled with water before the electricity goes out and pumps stop working.

Communications with friends and relatives should be attempted while mobile phones, Internet, and other infrastructures are still intact to notify them of a safe refuge. The apartment had one strong door leading to the roof that could only be opened from the inside. Survivors who manage to make it through the swarms of undead and to the apartment could access the roof via a clandestine fire exit and thus to safety. Access to the rooftop is helpful in that it allows one to scour and loot neighboring apartment buildings for provisions as well as contact other survivors. I maintain the policy that all survivors seeking refuge shall have it provided they undergo a full body examination for bite marks.

Sooner or later you will have to leave the safety of your refuge to find sustenance or weapons and a knowledge of your surroundings is an integral part of survival. In West Chester I knew that food could be pillaged from one of the hundreds of restaurants in town, weapons could potentially be acquired at the local National Guard post or police station, and secondary fortifications complete with thick walls and generators are only blocks away at the local university.

You can see that I make it my business to asses my surroundings in terms of zombie survivability from minute to minute and this habit remains unchanged despite the fact that I live in Korea. In fact my paranoia has heightened ten fold since landing here. One of the first disadvantages of the peninsula is the extraordinarily high population density in urban areas. The more people the more potential zombies. Secondly there are no civilian firearms in Korea. A couple cops carry small caliber revolvers and of course the military has guns but that's about it. That leaves one to rely solely on bludgeoning weapons to combat four or five times the amount of zombies I am accustomed to preparing for. To this day I have nothing that will serve as a proper weapon should the need arise. Sure there are a few random poles or table legs in my apartment but nothing that will hold up to sustained combat. Also, failing to understand the language makes it nearly impossible to identify places of safety or medical supplies.

My new apartment presents another difficulty. Located on the ground floor of a three story building, the entrance is tucked into the small choke point of a brick alley. The door is solid steel and there are iron bars covering the windows so there should be no problem keeping scores of undead out. The true problem manifests itself in escaping or acquiring provisions. There is no way to store water and seldom do I keep more than a weeks worth of nonperishable laying about. Therefore my domicile is the last place I would consider taking refuge in the event of an outbreak.

Aside from it's obvious disadvantages there are clear benefits to the topography if you know where to look. Escaping urban areas and heading for the countryside is priority number-one. As most vehicles on the road are small, under powered four cylinders I would recommend attempting to commandeer one of the large, eight-wheel drive commercial trucks seen on or around construction sites. These vehicles easily have enough power to push their way through stalled traffic, blood thirsty mobs, and likely carry strong steel tools to use for self-defense. Korea is a country of countless small mountains. Almost all of these mountains are surrounded by thick rice patties, large tracts of thick vegetation and knee-deep mud...the perfect landscape for slowing or snaring scores of flesh-hungry Korean zombies. Additionally, there are many mountains that have large radio installations on the summits (the two closest mountains to me, Chilbo San and Gwangu San both sport these towers) which are enclosed by large barbwire fences, machine gun turrets, and protected by active military patrols. There are dormitory facilities, trucks, generators, communications equiptment, food, and firearms at these facilities. Assuming you can find one of these installations abandoned or are sly enough to talk your way into one they are sure to make the perfect refuge, being located 2000 metres high on steep unnavigable terrain amidst a sea of rice patties and far from densely populated urban areas. What more could you ask for really? It is not a perfect plan, nor is it as refined as my measures developed over years at college, but it is better to have a mediocre plan than no plan at all.

Cool Thing About Korea #19: We had a solar eclipse today, a phenomena of such occultist proclivities as to compliment a zombie commentary rather fittingly.